“Have you had one yet, Trish?” Mags asks.

I shake my head.

“Something to look forward to,” Emma says, winking.

“Can’t wait.”

Suddenly, I start to laugh and the others crack up, too. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I laugh and laugh with my friends, and it feels so good. I’ve lost all numbness, my headache has receded, and I feel alive and hopeful. It’s such a strange experience for me; simply to be here in this moment and be happy, even when I know, in a hazy no-point-worrying way, I’m dealing with some major shit right now. Again, I wonder if pregnancy hormones are involved in this odd mood. It’s so unlike me to be this positive.

“What’s so funny?” asks a deep, familiar voice. Pete stands in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You were all laughing so hard, you didn’t even hear me knock.”

We look at one another, our smiling faces frozen in place.

Mags finally clears her throat. “Hey, Pete,” she says, her voice squeaking. “You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry. The door was unlocked, so…” He trails off and looks at me, confused. “You still OK to have dinner out? I booked us a place.”

My friends are watching my reaction, trying to gauge what they should do.

“Absolutely,” I say firmly. “This lot were just leaving.”

“Yeah.” Lily grabs her keys and phone off the coffee table. “Come on, Mags. I’ll drop you home on my way to the supermarket. Darryl gave me a list, for crying out loud.”

Mags stands. “A list of what?”

“Stuff he thinks we need.”

“And you don’t?” Emma asks, gathering her things.

“Well, we probably do, but I don’t need a list to remind me. That’s what your memory is for. Lists are for old people.”

“I write lists all the time,” says Mags, giving me a sly wink. “Good luck,” she mouths.

They file past Pete and mutter fairly lukewarm goodbyes. I suspect none of them would be upset if he were offered another fancy job in Australia. Whatever trust and affection they had for him has long gone.

“The girls still hate me, then,” says Pete ruefully as he comes to sit beside me and plants a light kiss on my cheek. “What was so funny, by the way?”

I’m light-headed and my legs feel jittery with nerves. “Just a pregnancy joke. Wasn’t very funny, but…” I shrug as if that explains everything.

“Right.” Pete glances down at my stomach. “How’s junior getting on?”

Oh my God! Did he just call my baby junior? This is far worse than I thought. Pete’s gone potty in the head. Never in a million Sundays would I have thought he’d use that word. The problem is, it’s so nerdy and unexpected and, well, cute, that I have an urge to kiss him.